


In States Unborn And Accents Yet Unknown

by Poetry



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03 - Children of Earth Arc, Gen, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetry/pseuds/Poetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor discovers why Jack deserves his trust. Set a few days (relatively speaking) after <em>The Doctor Dances</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In States Unborn And Accents Yet Unknown

The Doctor was restless.

Left to his own devices, he would have left this planet hours ago, but Rose and Jack insisted on attending the celebration held in their honor.

It wasn't as if they didn't deserve it. Rose had been brilliant as usual, managing to convince the power station manager to temporarily shut down the generators so that the Doctor could safely repair the nuclear waste disposal. Even Jack had been useful, shutting down the overloading power lines before they could reach critical. Still, the Doctor wasn't sure he could trust the man as far as he could throw him.

After an hour of feasting and revelry, the Doctor declared that he'd rather eat live Andromedan chelicerates than listen to one more song praising them, and slipped away to the city temple for a few moments' peace.

One of the clerics emerged from behind an ornate shrine and twirled her tail respectfully at the Doctor. "Blessings be, traveler," she said, her voice low and sibilant.

The Doctor smiled tightly. "Blessings be, Sister." So much for a moment's peace.

"We knew that help would come," said the cleric serenely. "There is a legend in our Order of a lonely traveler, the Knight in Mourning, who appears in the hour of need."

"Listen," said the Doctor, biting back annoyance. He hated backwater towns where he was a folk hero. Worse, he couldn't remember having been here before. Timeline troubles were bound to follow. "I'm not a god or an angel. I'm just the Doctor."

"Of course you are not." The cleric bared her teeth in what the Doctor was fairly certain was a smile. She drew a small lantern from under her cloak, and held it up to the apex of one of the larger temple shrines.

Carved into the stone was the unmistakable likeness of Captain Jack - but not as the Doctor had ever seen him. His shoulders were squared nobly beneath a World War II greatcoat, and his general appearance was unchanged, but his eyes were old and sad. The Doctor knew that face. In all the ways that mattered, it was his own.

"Give the Knight in Mourning my thanks," said the cleric.

The Doctor clamped down on his lacrimal glands; the tears would be too obvious for comfort in the lantern light. "I will."

He returned to the banquet, which was at last coming to a close. Jack seemed to be re-enacting some exploit using a goblet of wine and a giant grasshopper leg. Rose listened, doubled over with laughter. As the Doctor approached, the story dissolved from Jack's body language, and he looked up like a child waiting to be taken to time-out.

"Captain." The Doctor clapped him on the shoulder. "How would you like to help me work on the TARDIS?"

One day, he might become a mournful angel, but for as long as the Doctor could manage it, Jack would be their smiling knight.


End file.
